This is a bookshelf in my home that for obvious reasons I think of as the Aldous Huxley Shelf: These are books by and about Aldous Huxley. Most of the books on this shelf were purchased by my teenage self between 1967 and 1971. To make maximum use of available bookshelf space, they are arranged in two rows with the larger books in the rear — a technique of shelving books pioneered by, I believe, James Boswell. My Aldous Huxley Shelf may be a bit excessive, but I don't think it's unusual. Many of the literate people I know have similar enclaves of related books on their shelves, revealing a time in their lives when they burrowed down deep in a particular genre or author. Our books are a history of our lives. In the formation of my identity, these books are as important as my parents and my teachers. My infatuation with the works of Mr. Huxley began, of course, with Brave New World . The paperback edition I have has a print date of August 1967, which probably means I was 14 when I
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